


Rumor Has It

by Helen8462



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Additional Scene, Could be canon though, Episode: s06e09 The Voyager Conspiracy, F/M, First Time, Not really sure, Smut, This might be a PWP, Yeah it probably is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462
Summary: “I heard another interesting rumor yesterday,” she says, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.  He eyes her with a coy smile as he sets down a bowl of food for them to share.  It looks delicious, but she’s not sure she’ll manage a bite.“Oh?”“Apparently the captain and the first officer are doing indecent things in their off time.”





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starfleet_vs_Maquis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfleet_vs_Maquis/gifts).



> This started out as a request from starfleet_vs_maquis for my "guess it, pick next" drab-let series. But she wanted "Every. Single. Detail." and it quickly grew past 500 words.
> 
> Also, this is my first foray into an 'E' rating. Alas, I've been corrupted by the best. Thanks a million to miacooper for her always-perfect beta skills and to the whole PCFS for putting such dirty thoughts into my innocent head in the first place. 
> 
> Set immediately after 6 x 09 "Voyager Conspiracy"

* * *

 

 _‘We’ve been through too much to stop trusting each other,’_ the words echo in her mind.  _Did I really say that?  To him?_

She tosses her head to the left on her pillow. _Trust.  Ha._   He should trust her about as far as he can throw her, she knows.

“Computer,” she asks, slinging herself back to look up at the ceiling.  “What is the definition of the word ‘Trust?’”

_~Trust.  Noun.  A firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.  Verb.  To believe in the-~_

“That’s enough,” she interrupts.  The computer falls silent.

Sleep isn’t going to come to her tonight, there isn’t even a chance of it.  She rubs her hand over her forehead and pinches her eyes closed.   

“Fuck,” she grunts, shattering the silence.  Her hands slam down in fists against the mattress.  Grudgingly, she rolls out of bed to find clothing decent enough for a short walk down the hall.  Tonight’s the night, she realizes.  She can’t go on like this any longer.

“I was wrong,” she says the instant his door slides open. 

“Kathryn?” he asks, half asleep. 

She pushes past him and the doors close with a hiss that foreshadows finality.  “What I said at dinner.  I was wrong.”

She sees now that up until the moment she rang the chime he must have been sound asleep.  Though, she does notice that one part of his body has fully woken up, evident as the bulge in his pajama pants.  In another time it might have embarrassed her, but she’s on a mission that even the most obvious of errant erections won’t deter.  

“What are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t trust me.”

He wipes the sleep from his eyes.  “I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to hurt you.”

“What?”  He snaps awake a bit more. “Now?”

“No,” she says, frustration seeping into her voice.  “Not now.”

“Good,” he replies.  “Cause my phaser is over there….”

Her death glare is having little effect in the middle of the night. 

“Kathryn,” he says, putting both hands on her shoulders.  “You’re not making any sense.  What’s going on?”

She takes a calming breath and gathers her thoughts.  “I said that we’ve been through too much to stop trusting each other.”

“I remember that.”

“It was a lie, Chakotay.  We’ve been through a lot, yes.  But you still shouldn’t trust me.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she exhales.  “Part of trusting someone means believing that they’re telling you the truth.  And I’m not.  I haven’t been for a long time.”

At this, she notices him visibly stumble as he finds his way backwards, in half-light, to sit in a chair.  “I don’t think I follow you.”

“I….” a wave of nauseous adrenaline courses through her.  For the first time since stepping foot in his quarters she’s having second thoughts but she going to push through them come hell or high water.  “I have feelings.  For you.  And I haven’t been honest about them.”

His eyebrows may actually touch the ceiling if they elevate any further.  And now he’s tugging at his ear. 

“What kind of feelings?”

 _“_ What kind of feelings?!  What the hell kind of feelings do you think, Chakotay?”  Her hands are on her hips now and it makes her feel commanding, though she’s anywhere but in control.

He is speechless and she hates him just a bit for it.

“Come on.  Everything we’ve been through.  Everything we’ve shared and that I’ve skirted around - the candle-lit dinners, the private holodeck excursions.  The way I touch your arm.  Don’t tell me I’ve been too subtle.  Don’t tell me I’ve been reading into this…. this _thing_ , whatever the hell it is, alone all these years.”

He bites his lip and shakes his head.  “You’re not alone.”

A quick breath leaves her and the nausea subsides.  “Good.”

They’re staring at each other.  Not moving, barely breathing each waiting for the other to do something.  In all the ways she imagined addressing the subject, this was never once how she thought it might go.  She’s finally out of things to say.

“Where does the hurting me part come in exactly?” he manages eventually.

“Someday, I’m going to act on my feelings.  And when I do, it won’t be appropriate.”

“I see.”

“That’s when things are going to turn ugly.”

He scratches at his eyebrows.  “You’ve an ability to see into the future now?”

She nods.

“You’re right Kathryn,” he says, standing from his seat. “We have been through a lot.  Recently, especially…. the last couple years have been really hard.  Sometimes I don’t know what’s going through your head.  And then other times I really don’t care as long as you’re near me.”

“So you…”

“Feel the same way?  Yes.  But Kathryn,” he asks putting a hand on the side of her arm. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He nods.  “You are.”

“I’m here now, telling you the truth.  Because I want us to trust each other fully.  Like we used to.”

“I never stopped trusting you.”

She doesn’t believe him, not for a second, but she lets it slide.  This truth thing can only carry so far.

“In that case, I needed to tell you in order to keep my focus.  To clear my conscience.  To get a damn night’s sleep.  And to maybe, hopefully, prevent the part that involves hurting you.”

He moves closer and runs a strong but delicate finger along the side of her cheek and down her jaw. Her eyes drift closed.  Of all things, she doesn’t want to have to do what she’s about to do.

“I’m here now to tell you…” her voice catches.  “We need to cut the candles.  And the holodeck time.”  She can’t bear to look at him so she stares at the floor.  It’s a cowardly posture, but befitting of what she’s saying.  “And the insinuations.  And probably some of our dinners.”

The silence is deafening.  She finds herself praying for a red-alert or the chirp of a badge or an alien banging on the window. Anything to get her out of this horrendous moment.

“Are you going to stop touching my arm too?” he asks softly.

She nods to the carpet.

“I see.”

The whole room just heard her swallow.  She wants to disappear into thin air.  “And your chest,” she whispers.

“Ah.  That’s a shame.”

She nods again because she agrees.  She loves the way his chest feels under her fingertips.  She may miss that more than anything.

“I suppose I have to stop stealing glances at you as well?” he asks.

“That would probably be for the best.”

“I’ll have to find something else to concentrate on.”

“You could count the little squares on the control panels.  That’s what I do,” she says, finally looking up.  It was a mistake to so, because now she sees the most amazing pair of dimples beginning to form.

“I’ve done that already.  Usually when you’re leaning over the helm.”

“Well then, you could try calculating the combined ages of the crew.”

“I’m not very good at math,” he retorts without missing a beat.

“I can’t solve all of your problems for you,” she informs him, trying to salvage what’s left of her resolve.  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Oh, I’ve thought of something,” he voice is deep and dripping.

“About that insinuation, Commander,” she corrects with a mere fraction of the authoritative voice she had minutes ago. 

He snaps his fingers.  “You’re right.  You said no more insinuations.  I have to be direct now.”

“You do?” The shock is evident in her voice.

As an answer his strong arm reaches out to grab her around the waist and he hauls her close.  Their bodies are pressed against each other now and it’s… oh, he’s talking to her again.

“This is the moment,” he hisses deeply into her ear.  “You tell me ‘no’ and leave.  Or you prove that you trust me, and you stay.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“When you break my heart?”

She nods. 

“Tomorrow be damned.”

“What were my choices again?”

“Stay.  Or go.”

Her eyes draw up to his.  “Which one am I going to regret?”

“Both.”

He’s being honest, and he’s right.  Her head is swimming, her legs are weak and the throbbing ache which has gone unsatisfied for so long is about to become a distant memory.  He smells amazing.  He feels…. _oh God_ , she thinks, realizing that what is pressed between them is definitely not errant.

“Is this just about…?”

He shakes his head.  “I love you. And I want you, if only for tonight.”

And then his lips are on hers - full and ravenous and fighting for dominance.  His tongue pushes past hers and she feels his hands on her cool skin.  They’re warm and they’re sliding up inside of her shirt. 

 _Hands….where are my hands?_ she thinks.  _Pushing against his chest._   She runs them along the sides of his ribcage and hooks him under his arms.

He starts walking with her in his embrace, pushing her backwards.  Her mouth wrenches away long enough to gasp for breath before he’s finding another place to put his.  This time, against the side of her neck working slowly down her collarbone, tasting every spot he can find.  Face buried in his grey shirt, the moan she releases is absorbed into Starfleet-issued fabric.

Before she knows it, the back of her knees are against the bed.  Together they fight to stay upright.  “Was this…” she gasps.  Their fingers are furiously fighting with pajama pants and tee shirts.  “Part of…” his warm palms have found her breasts and she can’t stifle the groan that escapes her throat.  “Your Maquis plot?”

“Mm hm,” he moans.  “From day one.”

His mouth has followed his hands, lower ever still.  She doesn’t even know what she’s doing with hers but she’s touching parts of him, hard and muscular and… he’s wet too, she notices as she’s finally pushed back onto the bed.

“I want to take my time with you,” he admits, pressing down against her, lavishing her.  There is sweetness and a hint of regret in his voice.

“But?” she asks, still exploring his length and girth in her palm.    

“I don’t know if I can….”

“Later,” she agrees.  “We can take our time later.”

He groans his approval and grinds against her.  She still has her panties on, indecently soaked as they now are.  He’s nudging against them and curses softly at the omission.  She feels him rub deliciously against her, once.  Twice.  Then he moves himself away, pries under the cloth and presses into her briefly, wetness coating his fingers, and shudders.  The sounds escaping her throat are impolite to say the least and with that little encouragement he hoists her lower half to swiftly remove the last vestiges of chastity.

Before she can blink again he’s sliding into her, gently at first and she senses that he is holding back, but it’s not what she wants.  She heaves herself upwards and the sound that escapes him reminds her just how much she’s going to regret this in the morning. 

He’s thrusting into her now, past every boundary she’s ever set that he has dutifully obeyed.  Her sight blurs as she focuses on a point beyond his muscled shoulders, through the open bedroom door and out the window to the stars that burst as points of light against the blackness. 

And then, she joins them.

* * *

“I heard another interesting rumor yesterday,” she says, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.  He eyes her with a coy smile as he sets down a bowl of food for them to share.  It looks delicious, but she’s not sure she’ll manage a bite.

“Oh?”

“Apparently the captain and the first officer are doing indecent things in their off time.”

“Is that right?”

“I have it on good authority.”  He smiles and there are those damn dimples again, she realizes as he inches closer to her.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” he brushes off.  “I’m sure whatever they’re doing is perfectly acceptable.”

“There’s a second rumor going around as well,” she says, hanging her head slightly.

“What’s that?” he asks, and now he’s tilting her chin up with his two fingers as if preparing to do exactly what she wants to avoid.

She pulls away.  “That she’s going to break his heart.”

His hand falls back to his side.  “He should have seen it coming,” he resigns.

“She did warn him.  And…” she begins, but is now addressing her wine glass, “she does love him.  Even if it’s hard for her to admit.  At least, that’s what I hear.”

He lets go of a heavy sigh.  “I don’t want this to be anything that will make you uncomfortable.  It was never my intent to push you into more than you want.”

“I know that.”

He nods and hands her a plate.  His thumb touches the back of her hand briefly in the exchange and she can’t help but notice how wonderful his dark flesh looks on top of hers.

“If it’s any comfort,” she says sitting to face him at the table, “consensus is that when we reach Earth the captain and commander are going to be quite happy together.”

He picks up his glass and clinks it against hers. 

“Now that is a rumor I’d bet on.”

* * *

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